The Job
by GoldenJedi
Summary: A job well done can change your life. Sequel to 'The Other Leia'.


**The Job**

So far, it had been a miserable week.

The twins caught the stomach flu. You can imagine. Twins, four years old, stomach flu, vomit all over the place. When I finished cleaning the last of it, I fell myself with the damned virus. And after me, my mother - who lives with us, or us with her, whatever. And I was going to turn thirty in a few days.

Yeah, I'm single mother of two and my name is Leia, but I prefer if you call me Aldry. Long story.

The thing is, I did not go to work for five days and had not been in touch with my boss -who I hate and keep as far as I could - either, so I was not aware of the news. A neighbor came to take care of Mom and the kids and I dashed to the spaceport, because I was already late for work. Didn't I tell you? I'm a hyperdrive technician, and I'm the best.

So just when I was parking my speeder out of the spaceport, only ten minutes late, my boss commed inquiring about my whereabouts and ordered me to go straight to landing pad A-06. One of the VIP pads. Damn. Probably one of those new rich people who did not know the proper hyperspace sequence and blamed the expensive engines for it.

So I did not even bother to change into my overalls because I was sure it was only a matter of checking the latest logs and showing the rich bantha where the mistake was.

As I entered landing pad A-06 - in the back part of the spaceport, where the general public could not even see them - I saw an old and battered YT-1300. What was it doing there? Maybe I was still under the influence of the damn virus or maybe it was simply that I never expected to really see it, but I did not recognize the freighter. I rushed to the landing ramp but as I stepped on it, a man came out of the ship, shouting at me.

"At last! Where is that damned technician, lady?"

My eyes went from the Corellian Bloodstripes to the blaster to the bandaged wrist to the grayish hair crowning a face that was strikingly familiar.

"That would be me, Sir," I answered automatically, trying to remember where I had met the old guy. Alright, I don't look like much when you first meet me, but I know what I'm doing. At least when it comes to hyperdrive engines. My life? That's another story.

Anyway, the realization came to me at the same time he stretched his right hand - the wounded one - to me. Of course, I had to add twenty-something years to the holo that always had a prevalent position in my mother's family room: the holo of Princess Leia of Alderaan and her family.

"Han Solo," he said wincing, changing hands to offer me the good one. My jaw dropped and I stood there, frozen in awe, looking rather stupid, probably.

I reacted enough to shake his hand and introduce me.

"C'mon in," he said, walking up the ramp again, "I don't bite."

I followed him, wondering if I was walking right into one of my teenage fantasies.

The problem seemed simple enough, once I manage to focus on it and not in the fact that I was in the Millenium Falcon alone with Han Solo. One of the circuitry plaques that controlled the ignition sequence of the hyperdrive engine was busted and had to be replaced. I'm sure he already knew it, but he was proving me. I also provided him with the information that said plaque had not been manufactured for fifteen years, but I would do anything in my power to find one.

So I went to my cubicle and checked the inventory - just to be sure, I usually know what's in it. Once I verified what I was looking for was not there, I started to make some calls. That was not as easy as it sounds because we were in the middle of the Spring Break here and it was a sunny day and everybody was out in the fields. That is, everybody with the exception of my family and I, who had been puking happily at home.

After pestering all my relationships in the spare parts market, I was convinced that there was not a single JKT-769/B available on the planet. So a creative solution had to be found.

I headed again to the Millenium Falcon. This time I had my overall on, my toolbox and a new part in its original package. And a lot of nerve, I must say.

I walked up the ramp, already repentant of not minding my own business. As I entered the ship, I heard his voice and a second voice, female, talking back. I know, I know, I shouldn't have listened, but I did. I'm sneaky and rude, what can I say.

"Look, Leia, I know I promised I'd be home tonight, but I _can't_," he was saying.

"You had to go this week, didn't you, you had to go visit your friend _this week_..." The Princess answered, evidently irritated. "It's our thirtieth anniversary tomorrow, Han!"

"I know," he answered.

"I... was looking forward for tonight..." Never noticed that the Princess had so a sexy voice. Man, she was old! Couldn't they behave? I should have left then, or make some noise, but again, I did not.

"Me too, sweetheart," he answered. "But I'll promise I'll be there tomorrow in, like twelve hours. We can celebrate privately _after_ the party, for a change." I'm sure he winked then.

"Why don't you take a public transport?"

"There aren't any heading there until the day after tomorrow."

"Rent something."

"I've already tried. There's some kind of holiday here going on, everything's taken. Besides, you know I can't leave the old girl here alone..."

"You have another old girl here, if you remember. Look, I'll talk to Wedge, maybe he has some people in the area that can give you a lift."

"Uh, yeah, you could do that, but don't send anybody here yet."

"What's going on, Han? How did you hurt your wrist?"

"It's nothing serious, Leia, don't worry. I've already told you, the kid seems bright, we'll find a solution."

The kid. That would be me, I guess. Bright, uh? I blushed. I haven't been called "kid" since I had the twins. And I'm turning thirty in three days, dammit! Can you guess why my Mom called me Leia?

"I'm not going to our anniversary ball tomorrow alone, Han Solo, I warn you!"

"I love you, sweetheart. Solo out."

" 'Love you too, nerfherder."

So I gave him first the bad news and then what I supposed was good news. I must give him this, the guy listened. He really listened as I exposed my theory of how to replace the old JKT-769/B with something currently in the stores. He was a little skeptical though, asked a lot of questions, made me draw a scheme on flimsy and read the specifications of the new part by himself.

At last, after a long silence, he spoke. "Let's do it," Han Solo said.

He couldn't use the hydrospanner properly with his injured wrist, so I had to do all the manual work. At first he watched me so closely that I could feel his breath on my neck, literally. I suspect you won't believe me if I swear that I've never dreamed to find myself in that position. After a while, he relaxed a little, maybe noticing that I was doing a reasonable good job or that his proximity was affecting it and it could be better if he was a little more distant from me.

Anyway, now I understand what the medics feel when they are doing some proceedure on one of my babies and I'm hovering over them.

After a couple of hours, I was finished and the passive tests gave positive results. All what was left was to prove it.

I asked his permission to use the fresher to clean the sealant grease from my hands. He showed me and then entered a room by it. I caught a glimpse of pink printed shimmersilk. Princess of Alderaan print. I heard later the story of that cabin. It happens that in this planet there is a big Alderaanian colony, mainly artists and artisans. That's why my mother insisted in moving here. He had hired some people to redecorate the main cabin for his wife in Alderaanian style as an anniversary present. It seemed that there have been some misunderstood and the measures weren't right, so there was big fuss and shouting in that pad while I was occupied with the virus. Finally, when everything was ready in that department, the hyperdrive refused to work and he had to come back.

He insisted in paying for the part and for my work. I couldn't refuse, since I'm just an employee here. When I gave him the detail of the work with my signature as a guarantee, he asked, surprised: "Leia Alderaania?" Your name is Leia Alderaania?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Stop that, my name is Han." He had said that before, but I forgot. He continued. "Are you Alderaanian?"

"Only ¼, S... Han. But my mother is a big fan of the Princess."

He smiled, knowingly. He must have found things like this a million times.

"Come down here, I think you'll like this." He stepped down into one of the cargo holds. There was a big durasteel box, almost as big as I was.

"Help me," he asked, "this is a little tricky." I helped him to undo the fastenings and move the side of it. That's how he had injured his wrist earlier, he explained. I stepped back to appraise the art piece. There, on a rock basement, were the statues of three children carved in stone.

"Touch it," he said, "it's Aldaraanian rock. I picked it up myself."

What I felt in that gloomy cargo hold I can't start to explain. It was like a funeral monument and an offer to life at the same time. Happiness and sadness, all mixed up. I remembered the grandfather I never met. Then I noticed the faces of the children.

"These are your children," I whispered. He nodded. "I'm sorry," I said. For a selfish moment, I was so glad my two little demons were safe at home. And that we did have a home.

A little after that, we said goodbye. He was evidently in a hurry. But when the ramp was closing, he winked and gave me his famous lopsided grin. I understood then that my teenage fantasies had not been so misguided.

I hated Leia Organa for a brief moment and envied her with all my heart.

Three days later a big package from the Solos arrived. I brought it home and opened it with my family. There was cake from the party in sealed containers and the holo of the happy couple that had been the souvenir. There were two notes also, one of the Princess, saying just _Thank you_. I forgave her then.

The other note was more important to me, and not only because it was in my idol's handwriting. It said: _If you need a job, contact me_. I couldn't ask for more for my thirtieth lifeday.


End file.
